Tales of the Forgotten
by Leider Hosen
Summary: Everyone knows their character's perspective- but is that the only perspective there is?
1. The Last Giant

A/N: I am, to put it simply, an emotional guy- my mood swings like a door- I fact that metaphor doesn't really do it justice. To write comedy I have to be in a snarky mood, to write horror I have to be stressed, etcetera etcetera.

I haven't been getting along too well- it makes me very angry at the world and sad I can't hold one fucking relationship to save my life, and like all my other works, they are inspired by my state of mind.

This is a project I've been thinking about, but never got around to- it is the world of Dark Souls 2 (may do Demon's Souls and Dark Souls) from the perspective of the bosses. What kinds of things were they thinking about before you walked in the fog, and what were their parting thoughts as they turned into souls?

I'm going with more of a "bardic" style, so it may look a little odd.

* * *

On the coast of Drangleic, there sits a great, crumbling fortress- were hollow soldiers patrol back and forth, unaware that the kingdom they once protected is no more. It is a feeding ground for crows, a few relics of a bygone age the only thing left of what was-

A Heide knight, sitting in the shade of an old tree, resting his weary bones, his sword still arching with lightning at his side. What he is doing there is a mystery, but it doesn't truly matter why he's there- he has no home to return to, his home flooded.

The Pursuer, upon the wings of a great hawk, circles the land, groups of ironclad soldiers, whose armor is so ancient and rusty it barely moves anymore, walking around below, amongst the hollows.

But there is another inhabitant more ancient and powerful than all of them, out of sight- sitting beneath the ruins of the castle, for when he fell from the highest wall- he crashed down upon a crumbling tower, his weight too great for the besieged castle to support-

And so, the being, tower, and all broke through the ceiling of a great cavern- stalactites driving through his hands and body, and massive stone rod caught under him driving through his stomach, and out his back.

Already suffering a beating at the hands of a nameless soldier of incredible strength- he was unable to move, countless soldiers swarming into his chamber and striking at the beast. Countless weapons were impaled into his body as he struggled to stand again, his silver crown knocked from his head, his robes torn asunder and pressed into the dirt.

His greatsword- a weapon forged by the highest smiths in the giant's land- was buried beneath the tower, lost.

The being, the great lord of the giants- went still- the soldiers leaving him and making their way to the surface to repel the giants.

But alas, the giant lord was not dead. He'd gone still and dormant- but his flesh was stone- his sinew and muscles gravel and minerals, for giants were _of _the land- trying to strike him down was like trying to strike the earth down.

And so he rested in piece, the light from the ceiling changing from day to night countless thousands of times, the ruin his tomb…

But then, one day, the giant's slumber was interrupted by a sound- the sound of footsteps creeping down the hall- the intruder entering his tomb, his breath leaving him as he viewed the incredible beast-

This nameless one, like all the others, had no idea this ancient creature was slumbering there- he was merely searching for a key to the next level of the fortress- which happened to be on the crushed skeleton of a soldier that fell with the old lord.

No matter what the intention, the being was unwanted- the great stone giant raising his head to look upon the interloper-

There was a sudden, overwhelming sense of familiarity- something awakening deep in the giant's memories as he took in the confused face of the intruder-

It was him- the nameless one- the warrior that had struck him down countless centuries ago! He was wearing softer armor, had blunter weapons- and his combat stance was far weaker- but there was no mistaking it- it was him! That face! Those eyes!

The giant lord was gripped with an impossible rage- tearing his way from the stalactites impaled in his body, roaring the whole time as his hand was ripped in half getting off a pillar of stone, while the great casket wedged in his chest shifted around inside him-

But it didn't matter- the giant lord tearing forward towards his nemesis with little grasp on his sentience- attacking as a mad beast-

The giant lord- even in his weakened state- was a force to behold- his strong feet shattered stone and sent stalactites from the ceiling- the edges of his hand dredged the earth- his roar sent dust from the ceiling, and his jumps quaked the ground as he crossed the room-

But, his opponent, though he was much, much weaker than he was then- across the ages, was nimble- evading the giant lord's furious onslaught and outmaneuvering him deftly. He sliced at the lord's hard stone skin, slowly chipping away at the backs of his feet-

The giant leapt across the room, fearing he would soon fall if this kept up- but he refused to surrender- he would not allow his adversary the pleasure of defeating him-

Overcoming his sense of pain with his sheer force of will- he grabbed his off hand by the bicep- pulling at it and, much to the astonishment of his nemesis- tore it free- bellowing again as he clutched his dead arm by the base and felt it petrify, as giants did on death-

It was not as strong as his blade- but bearing the weapon aloft filled him with strength, the giant lord sweeping his arm across the room and batting his adversary from his feet- the shape crashing into the wall-

The giant lord ran in, the nameless one leaping aside as the limb tore a gash in the wall, crushing the stone at the base as the giant lord leapt forward and gave another tremendous stomp- knocking the nameless one aside.

The fight raged on- the giant lord's sword tearing his tomb apart while the nameless one shifted tactics, flying from bows to magic to swords-

After a time- the nameless one finally gave one great lunge- tearing into the heel of the giant lord- the former king feeling his ankle give as he lurched forward, falling to his knees- and looking down on him-

The nameless one appeared before him again- drawing a talisman- which sparked with lightning as it gathered power, the lord of giants drawing his fist back-

A great spear of lightning tore into the giant lord's pit of a face- the king staggering back and reaching his hand up- feeling the soft- photosensitive interior smoldering as he took another great bolt of magic to his head- then another- and another-

The giant lord's face smoldered- the beast struggling to his feet- before his sliced ankle gave out again, the lord keeling to the side and slowly falling- crashing into the ground and going still again-

This couldn't be happening- he couldn't lose again- to the same human- barely an insect-

But, as fast as it rose, the giant lord's rage begun to subside as he felt his corporeal form, long overdue to fade, begun to smolder and break apart-

Maybe the old lord of the giants could find peace as his existence faded from the world…


	2. The Pursuer

A/N: A big thanks to Blight and Soufflé for the good reviews and the pick-me-up! I was afraid the lightly detailed, bardic style wouldn't work since it was very much an experiment, but from the sounds of it the project worked as I hoped- especially since I couldn't really detail a battle since everyone uses different builds with different experiences. Now, without further ado, the perspective of everyone's favorite ass-kicker, the Pursuer…

* * *

High above the forest of the fallen giants and their lord, upon the wings of a great golden eagle, is a truly wicked being-

He is one of those beings from a time long since past, when the fortress stood tall and impenetrable, when King Vendrick and Queen Nashandra still sat upon the throne, and when the armies of soldiers below were not hollows but strong, powerful fighters who would one day repel the giants-

This knight, clad in mirror-like silver armor, and bearing a blade whose merest scratch could wither the flesh from bone, has a true name that is long forgotten.

But beyond who _he_ is, the undead know _what_ he is: The Pursuer- the undying hunter.

In the mind of this creature, more beast than man, is a tormented soul- one who wishes for nothing more than the sweet embrace of death…

He is a sinner- one who has merrily spilt the blood of hundreds over the decades and centuries- who's back holds a kind of macabre quiver full of weapons from past victims- trophies of their death.

More than once he has been bested, but- his restless soul refuses to pass on.

He returns- again and again, infinitely- sometimes as one- sometimes as many- for his essence exists beyond his corporeal form, or even his agonized soul.

His ring models the weapon of the mad king of Alken- perhaps to strengthen his blade- or perhaps to symbolize the Pursuer's connection to a dark time before now.

It may never be known, for the pursuer- in a desperate attempt to escape the agony of his undeath in this world of despair- has let himself fall into a trancelike state of bliss…

He lacks purpose or reason- only a single desire-

There is a man- or maybe a woman- a person-

There is a soul that is as dark as the pursuer- maybe even darker-

If this knight could but find them- and kill them- he will atone for his ancient sins-

And die.

Flying over the ruins of the fortress wall, the eagle drew the pursuer close enough to see a lone figure wandering through a crack in the head of an old statue- the pursuer grinning within his menacing helm-

Maybe this is the one- maybe this is the undead fate has destined him to slay? Perhaps, perhaps not- but that will not stop the pursuer from eradicating all undead until he finds the _one_-

He threw his blade- the mightiest of straitswords- down- the silver, elongated weapon pinwheeling towards the earth-

The figure, a nameless warrior seeking the king- stopped as the weapon struck the land before him- looking around in confusion for the wielder, before the great pursuer himself came down from his eagle, landing deftly on his stout, but sturdy legs.

He'd done this many- many times- and was all too casual as he drew his great blade back from the ground- the force of his soul propelling him upwards as a black miasma trailed around the pursuer, his eyes glowing brightly red-

All the while, the cursed one watched the knight with a mix of terror and awe- his breath drawing short as the pursuer, so powerful not even gravity could hold him- flew forward- his massive body speeding off faster than the swiftest rogue, the cursed one barely dodging-

The pursuer flipped around, assaulting him with a volley of strikes, before leaping into the air- hovering a surreal moment- and dropping his blade down, gashing the cursed one over the front and crushing him into the ground-

The nameless one stood, the pursuer bashing him with his shield and laying down tremendous punishment- his feet skiing over the ground with liquid smoothness and swinging around in great arching swings-

However, this cursed one would not be so easily bullied- the undead fleeing from the pursuer as fast as he could, trying to take advantage of his incredible weight- which sent him sliding uncontrollably with his own momentum at points-

The cursed one begun to fight back, the pursuer vaguely feeling pain through his heavy armor as the nameless one's attacks laid into him time and again, his patterns growing harder to discern as he outmaneuvered the greater knight-

Finally, the pursuer- with newly rekindled interest- decided it was time to put an end to this-

He gave the cursed one a great bash over the head with his broad greatshield- cocking his arm back and channeling his intense dark power through the blade- the elongated, runed sword glowing bright blue-

Just as the nameless one- feeling himself greatly overwhelmed- looked up, the pursuer lunged- his greatsword driving all the way through the cursed one, who spewed blood as he was pulled into the air, the blade trailing black as the cursed one's life was drained from his body, the nameless warrior feeling his muscles atrophy as his skin peeled and yellowed as the darksign went berserk on contact with the pursuer's cursed blade-

Feeling himself hollow, the cursed undead was thrown to the ground- the pursuer leaping back to see what his new prey would do-

But- unlike the many others, this bearer of the curse stood again, his panic being overwhelmed by his fierce determination to prevail as he drew his bright golden flask of Estus-

The battle tore on further- the undead evading his curseing attack and evading the pursuer as well as he could- slipping in whatever Estus he could when the pursuer slid past him-

It was then, the cursed one finally caught a second wind- dodging the pursuer's elongated sword and tossing a firebomb into the pursuer's face- the great knight staggering a moment, before blowing the smoke aside and searching for his target-

He was attracted by the sound of a ratchet being drawn- the pursuer turning towards a great ballista from the war on the giants-

Before the pursuer could react- the cursed one fired on him with the old weapon- a great javelin of steel knocking him off his feet as it tore through his frontal armor and blew out the back-

The pursuer stood- a second bolt clicking into place- and launching into the his shoulder- the hunter chocking on blood as he felt his armor cave-

He fell- the force of gravity pulling him to the ground as his soul withered-

The Pursuer would remember this one- when he was drug from the abyss once more-


End file.
